


The Princes' Infatuation

by kazzykid



Category: No Fandom, fantasycore
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Reader-Insert, VERY HOMOEROTIC, male reader - Freeform, not historically accurate, this is a reader/prince story, this is fantasycore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzykid/pseuds/kazzykid
Summary: this is a reader insert for boys who want to escape to a fantasy universe and have a prince be obsessed with them.Y/N is a painter who does a commission for a simple political official in the castle and a certain prince takes interest in him and must have his portrait painted.This does have inspiration from The Picture Of Dorian Gray (but just a smidge)
Kudos: 4





	1. bright sunny day

His paintbrush glided over the stretched linen of the canvas. The commission was for a town official who lived in the royal quarters, and it was simple enough, a painting of the castle from the middle of town. It was supposed to be a stunt for gaining publicity and making it seem that this official cared for his sector. The peculiar sight had resulted in a crowd gathering the painter as he worked, mixing blues and greens to emulate the rich foliage surrounding the castle. Y/N fidgeted as the crowd stared, cornering him to his canvas. He began painting in the square using the bright sunny day as an opportunity to emulate the castle, but it was making him anxious, his face flushed in embarrassment. He hated people watching him paint.

  
As the sun began setting, he rinsed and packed his brushes with intricate care. They were expensive, handmade, and hard to come across in this small town, and he didn’t have that kind of disposable currency at the moment. Being an artist was hard in these times, and the occasional commission would have to last him till the next. The pay for this piece was handsome, considering the rumors that would spread if the political head didn’t offer a large sum of money…

  
Y/N returned to his cottage on the edge of the town near the forest separating the castle town from the peasant village. He set down his paintbrushes and prepared the wrapping for the painting. He placed it in a large piece of plain brown cloth and folded it delicately, securing the folds in twine. He placed it outside of the fencing around his property for the official’s messengers to pick up. The pre-payment had allowed him to buy fresh bread and ingredients to make a stew that would last him the week. He had decided to only eat a slice of bread with a bit of strawberry preserves he bought from the market. The sun’s final rays peeked through the cracks of his slatted windows, giving Y/Ns’ dingy sheets a golden glow, making his bed seem inviting and warm. He removed his shirt, stained with the grease and pigments of paint, and threw it in the wicker basket in the corner of his small home. He pulled on his wool sweater with linen lining to prevent itching and removed his pants, leaving him in his undergarments.

  
“I need to buy some nicer clothes, or at least get new fabric …” He said quietly to himself and sat down to a previous batch of water and a touch of scented oils to clean his clothes, making a futile attempt at removing the paint stains. He huffed and hung up the shirt to dry along with his other clothes. He reached into the laundry water and scrubbed his face clean of paint, drying it with a spare piece of cloth used as a rag. He looked out the window and saw the package gone.

  
“They must’ve sent their nightly roundsmen to fetch it…” He said, and smiled lightly, feeling accomplished of the new project. He sighed contentedly and grabbed the straw broom in the corner, sweeping any dirt or dust that may have flown in before starting a pot of water over a fire. He got the water hot before pouring it in a wooden cup, putting a makeshift teabag in it.  
‘I earned it, I dealt with crowds today and finished a painting on time’ He thought as he steeped his tea. He stirred it with a carved spoon, before removing the bag, sucking the remaining tea out of it before laying it out to dry. He sat on the edge of his bed, blowing on the tea, feeling at peace for the first time in a long while. He drank the tea, the warmness spreading through his chest. He put his cup in the cupboard and headed towards his bed. He bundled up in the homemade comforter, filled with cloth scraps, feathers, and spare wool fluff. He blew out the candle he had lit at sunset, before turning over, reveling in the moonlight grazing his head, before gently drifting into a deep sleep.


	2. Hazy morning

The loud rapping on the door caused Y/N to shoot upward from his slumber. He threw his covers away from him and got up, trudging toward the door forgetting he was only in undergarments. He cracked the door slightly, rubbing his sleepy eyes of fatigue. 

“Hello? What can I do for you gentlemen?” Y/N inquired, eying the men up and down. They were part of the royal messengers, the king’s insignia sewn onto the front of the men’s shawls. The man in front held an envelope and a bag of gold coins.

“Are you the painter who did the piece for the Ambassador?” The man holding the envelope questioned. 

“Yes sir, was something wrong with it? Was it not right?” Y/N started to panic a little, the last thing he wanted was to upset the ambassador and perhaps get himself in trouble.

“Oh no, not at all! This is the remaining payment for the piece,” The messenger stated, putting the leather bag of gold into his hand, the weight of it surprising him. “There is also a prepayment in that bag as well, which is to be explained in the letter.” The envelope was white with a blood-red wax seal, glittering with flecks of gold, stamped with the king’s insignia.

After the men had left, Y/N set the 

envelope and bag on a table. He carefully ran his fingers over the envelope, tracing the hardened wax. He grabbed a blade and carefully cut across the side, as to not damage any of the contents within. The thick folded parchment felt smooth on Y/N's fingers as he unfolded the letter, laying it out on the table. His eyes glazed over the matte ink, adjusting his eyes to the small, neat cursive letters:

“Your services are required at the castle. A quite important person has taken a liking to your paintings and this privilege should not be wasted. Along with this notice, you have been given a down payment of 30 gold coins, and there will be more to come. Return this envelope to the castle as soon as possible to begin your work. We will be expecting you by today, or no later than tomorrow. Bring your finest materials, this will be a large piece.

~The Royal Advisory”

Y/N couldn’t believe it. While the letter itself was rather impolite, he still was taking in the scratch marks of the ink on the paper. He began immediately setting up his supplies, grabbing his biggest canvas, which took up half of his body, and wrapping it in an old sheet. He then gathered his expensive paints, brushes, and any other tools he may have needed and placed them in a bag made of old, coarse cloth. He removed his wool sweater and grabbed the shirt he just washed that night before. He finished getting dressed, scrubbing his face once more in the bucket of laundry water and set off for the castle, toting his supplies and the weight of anxiety on his shoulders. Of course he was nervous, he was meeting another royal official. Last time he spoke to the ambassador, he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

After trudging through the woods, he came across the beginning of a cobbled pathway, the rocks covered in moss and mortar cracking. He took a few steps before someone called out to him, “You there! Stop immediately and stay where you are. I advise you to remain still and I will not have to hurt you!”. Y/N’s throat tightened and he felt chills down his spine as he stiffened, the man’s booming voice bounced off the trees. The man revealed himself to be a knight when he approached the painter from the foliage. “What is your business here? If you have none or if it is of ill-intent, I advise you to turn back the way you came.” The knight’s sword glinted in the sparkling rays of sun sifting through the trees.

“I-I-um...I was re-requested by the..um, by the Royal Advisory…” Y/N stammered out, clutching the straps of his bags and staring at the sword, scared if he looked away from it, the blade would come to life and slice his throat. The knight just eyed him suspiciously, then a sadistic looked flashed across his face.

“Oh yeah? Is that so? And where is your proof I might ask?” He grabbed Y/N’s bag from his shoulder and opened it, surveying the contents. 

“U-um...Please be care-careful with that…” Y/N murmured while the brutish man dug through.

“Ahh, a painter I see...and lookie here,” he pulled the envelope from the bag, sliding the letter out, glaring his eyes as he read the words. “I guess you were being honest…” He shoved the bag back in Y/N’s arms, “Come on, I’ll escort you” He walked a bit ahead and Y/N followed him.

“S-so, what’s your name? Or am I n-not allowed to ask that…?” Y/N inquired and the knight just glanced at him from his peripherals. 

“Just call me Harken.” He stated bluntly, the clinking of the man's blade hitting his metal knee guard making the lack of conversation less deafening. They soon arrived at a large, thick iron gate and the knight beat on the bars with the end of a dagger "Hey! Open up! I have that painter!". Another man peeked over the top of the huge large wall then pulled a lever that opened the gate causing it to shriek. "Come on" Harken repeated, he nodded forward and continued walking at a fast pace. 

The Castle Town was pristine, well-dressed people browsing markets, fine materials displayed on sections of table connected to each market. People's eyes hit Y/N as he walked behind Harken, confused why a scrappy man with large bags is being escorted. "Can you walk faster, or do I need to carry you, boy?" Y/N nearly tripped trying to rush forward, Harken's command chilling his spine once more. A few townspeople snickered, using Y/N's mistakes as entertainment. 

They came upon the entrance to the castle, the white stone glittering in the midday sunlight. Y/N was led through the entrance down a long hallway to the throne room. He was practically shaking, and Harken pulled his shoulder down to make them both kneel before walking down the deep blue carpet leading to the elegant thrones at the wall. He led him to a hall branching off and up a spiral of stairs. "Up there is the room you'll be frequenting. There should only be few servants in there to help you set up. Light the lantern when you are done." he gestured to the empty oil lamp sitting outside the room, and Y/N opened the door with unsteady hands.


End file.
